


The Painful Way

by surprisepink



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Choose Your Own Adventure, Halloween, Horror, M/M, Possession
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-15
Updated: 2020-11-15
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:34:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,772
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27534583
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/surprisepink/pseuds/surprisepink
Summary: "Boar," Felix says. "How long has it been, and now you come to me like this?""Um," Dimitri says.(Part of the horror path for the Dimilix Spiderweb collaborative choose-your-own-adventure fic and art collection!)
Relationships: Dimitri Alexandre Blaiddyd/Felix Hugo Fraldarius
Comments: 2
Kudos: 10
Collections: Dimilix Spiderweb 2020





	The Painful Way

**Author's Note:**

> This is a continuation of the horror path for the Dimilix Spiderweb! [Start from the beginning!](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/DimilixSpiderweb2020/works/27461230)
> 
> [Play the game!](https://dimilixweb.itch.io/spiderweb2020)
> 
> [Go back to the previous segment!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27473431)
> 
> [Magpie](https://twitter.com/royalcorvids) created _stunning_ art to accompany this scene, you can see it [here](https://twitter.com/royalcorvids/status/1323005682275082240?s=19)!

A heavy silence permeates the room, and for a moment it seems like they’re both afraid to speak. Spooked silent, Felix wonders, or—no, it’s not fear, but reverence. This room has a _history_ , one that neither of them knows and that—at least, Felix—aches to understand. All of the weapons here are covered in a thick layer of dust, a sign that some relative of Claude’s was an enthusiastic collector at one time. Nothing more than that. And yet, such weapons must have been used at one time or another.

As a child, Felix always had to be half-dragged out of the medieval section of the history museum, protesting as his father told him that he couldn’t spend the entire weekend admiring swords. Though he hasn’t had much hands-on experience with them, he’s always had a certain fondness for that kind of thing. There’s something almost seductive about the thought of holding in one’s hand the power to end a life. In another lifetime, he might have used one in combat himself—though he wouldn’t be much of a knight. 

Felix can’t help but think that the items in the room _better_ have been used, and not just smithed only to be immediately locked away. It would be a shame if such finely crafted items hadn’t seen glory in battle at some point or another. It was the purpose they were created for, once upon a time, and they deserved to see it.

If not before, maybe now? It is Halloween, after all, and their friends _did_ insist on costumes… there are certainly worse things they could come back to the party as than a pair of warriors.

It’s a silly train of thought, really. It’s not like a sword cares whether it serves its purpose in battle, and even if they could they probably wouldn’t enjoy their first wielders being a pair of inexperienced twenty-somethings.

One sword in particular catches his eye, having a seemingly more prominent glow than the rest. But no, that’s impossible, isn’t it? Moonlight doesn’t shine so brightly that it would make a single item stand out in a dark room, much less _glow_. It’s a trick of the mind, or maybe the holiday is getting to him.

It’s easy enough to tell himself that, but there’s something special about that sword. He takes one step, then another—slow, deliberate. He has to find out more, but carefully. The thought causes the same uneasiness that he didn’t want to admit ran through him when he looked at the painting.

"This is amazing," Dimitri says, a certain awe in his voice. It breaks both the silence along with the trance Felix has almost been lulled into. Dimitri has always been good at managing tension—or managing Felix?—in his own clumsy way. "Does Claude know about this room? It looks like nobody’s cleaned it in a century, so how did we stumble across it without trying?"

Felix doesn’t answer. The sword is still glowing, and he can’t help but turn back toward it. There’s no moment when he makes the decision to keep going; it’s almost as though he blinks and suddenly he’s halfway across the room, approaching it like one might approach an old friend. Like he knows it. It’s a ridiculous thought, but it’s the only explanation he has right now.

The blade has no name, or none he knows—whoever it might have belonged to didn’t bother labeling anything, as far as he can tell—and when he touches it, Felix feels a surprising sense of completeness. Like he’s filled with the strength of warriors before him and the fury they carried. Like he’s prepared to carry on that legacy.

It’s overwhelming. It’s what he was meant to do. It’s all he has.

"Felix?" Dimitri asks from a few feet behind him.

He hadn’t even realized Dimitri followed, despite the now-obvious echoing of his footsteps through the wide room. The blade is too enticing, too transfixing, for him to notice something as insignificant as that. Nothing else seems to matter as much as the weight of the sword in his hand and the feeling as it slides out of the sheath, somehow smooth as butter even though it looks like it hasn’t been touched in years.

It’s odd, really, to find something as beautiful and valuable as this here and now, when both of them have just been wandering around this strange house because they’re here with their friends at their silly party and—

And the boar has become a danger to Fódlan and _must be stopped_.

But that’s impossible. It’s either Halloween night and they’re safe, albeit slightly lost, or they’re at war with each other and Dimitri is about to kill him before Felix does the same. Not _both_. His mind races and his heart pounds as he tries to make sense of it all; is it confusion, he wonders, or fear?

He grips the sword, feels its strength surging through him. One is true, then the other, back and forth many times over.

And then—

Dimitri places his hand on Felix’s shoulder in what might, in other circumstances, be a friendly gesture. As is, it’s a shock to the system. The boar hasn’t touched him in years, has he? And now he’s got the nerve to act like everything is normal between them, like their friendship hadn’t ended the moment Felix first saw who he really was?

Part of Felix still recognizes where they are, and it’s not Garreg Mach. But that makes no difference, not now. When Dimitri touches him, he feels such a rush of emotion—grief, longing, searing hatred, and an odd relief—that he _can’t_ be wrong. Not about this: that they are at war, and Felix, in an effort to stop him and the country from his savagery, has taken sides with the Emperor.

Felix whips his head around to face Dimitri, narrowing his eyes. "You," he hisses, unable to hide his disgust. He looks Dimitri up and down, sizing him up like he’s some kind of predator and Dimitri might be his next kill. Dimitri looks more or less how he remembers him, only his clothes are simpler, he’s let his hair grow out, and now he’s wearing an eyepatch. The last part is particularly intriguing, and Felix wonders what might have happened.

But it’s not worth taking the time to ask. The boar is dangerous; anything for a chance to have the upper hand, or at least to seem like he does. 

"Boar," Felix says. "How long has it been, and now you come to me like this?"

"Um," Dimitri says.

"You… you put on the face of a man, but I know your true nature. Now more than ever, it’s clear to me that you are a beast. What do you have to say for yourself? Speak quickly, before I cut you down."

"Felix, what on earth are you going on about? Are you all right? Did I do something wrong?"

He sounds confused— _genuinely_ confused, by the tone of his voice. Felix knows Dimitri better than just about anyone, knows all the subtleties of his expressions and his words. He’s studied them, after all, telling himself that it’s not curiosity or interest but merely a way to size Dimitri up. To learn his moods and his patterns, so that when the time comes to fight, he can emerge victorious.

And the time, it seems, has come. He’s not seen Dimitri in over five years. Five years spent fighting for the Empire, hardening his heart against any lingering attachment he may have once had to Faerghus and its unfit leader. He’s a changed man now, more than ready to strike him down.

"You know what I’m talking about, boar prince."

Dimitri doesn’t particularly seem like he’s _expecting_ Felix to strike him down, which is odd, but that’s of little importance. All the better really; it will be easier for Felix to win.

Without warning, Felix swings the sword. He hits nothing; the trajectory is carefully planned so as to swing right past Dimitri’s head without making contact. Faintly, Felix thinks that he shouldn’t have such skill, but he doesn’t allow the thought to linger.

Dimitri steps back, alarm on his face. "I truly do not, Felix. Please, put the sword down!"

"Never. Why should I?" Felix recalls picking the blade up only minutes ago, and though he logically knows that it’s not truly his own weapon, it feels like it’s been in his possession forever. Like it _belongs_ to him. Like he, in turn, belongs to it. "I’ve never abandoned my sword before. No reason to do it now, of all times. Not with you around."

Even now, as he spews his words like poison barbs, Felix can hear music from what must be several rooms away. In a short time, they could make it back safe to their friends and forget this whole thing ever happened.

But Felix won’t suggest that. He doesn’t want to stop. Or—is it him, or someone else? It’s impossible to tell.

Dimitri, as usual, is doing his best to hold Felix back, though he offers little in the way of a solution. "You used to say you might want to take up fencing, but I know for a fact you’ve never so much as touched a sword, much less used it like that." He’s wrong; Dimitri knows well that Felix, like him, has trained in combat practically since birth.

And yet, Felix is familiar with how Dimitri sounds when he’s lying. This isn’t it.

No matter. He hasn’t seen Dimitri in years. Somehow, the boar has learned how to weave tall tales.

He swings the blade again: another intentional miss. Dimitri is starting to look pale, even in this low light. Pathetic. He isn’t even in danger, not yet, and already it seems like he’s about to give up and walk away with his tail tucked between his legs. What happened to the beast of a man Felix used to know, and why have these past five years somehow made Dimitri even more skilled at hiding him?

"Felix," says Dimitri, then takes a deep breath. The stalling is getting frustrating. "Can we just… talk about this? I truly have no idea what’s going through your head, but I’m sure if you explain we can work it out."

It’s been far too long to be able to come to a resolution through simple civility. But oh, yes, Felix is happy to _talk_ —that’s worked so well before.

[ (GOOD END)]()

OR

[Dimitri’s brows pull together... (BAD END)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/27664664)


End file.
